


Mon Renoncule Rampante

by BarkingPup



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Also fun with body parts, But No One Cares, Children In Danger, Crossover, Fusion, Gen, Not that way don't be gross, Temporary Character Death, Unsafe Child Rearing, body parts, fun with knives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9058765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarkingPup/pseuds/BarkingPup
Summary: The fall is not pretty nor safe. The whipping air steals the breath from their lungs; the magic burns as they pass, and blood pools beneath their tongue at the agony; they land wet and sharp, all glistening insides and plip plop of pieces.
In time 
 
they get up.





	1. Nécromancie

**Author's Note:**

> Had a weird idea while reading Addams Family crossovers.... and it sort of... grew like an amoeba.

After the fall, when the sharp acrid temptation of the magic has passed, they are not sure why they came to the mountain. They think, perhaps, it was the thrill of life threatening danger. Of the children who watched them go, jeering but eyes too wide and smiles stretched too thin. They are not sure if the expression had been at them or for the imposing mountain behind them. It did not matter. For when they walked through the brush, making sure to scrape all the thorns and the branches against their pale skin, the tingle of magic was impossible to ignore. Whatever reason for walking up, the magic kept them going. 

 

It felt like 

 

_ Bitter cookies and powder licked off fingers, the familiar shh shh of a blade across stone. The bang and crackle of fireworks, putrid mud between their toes. A smile with too much teeth and a crooning voice that whispered  _

 

_ “Ah, Mon Renoncule.” _

 

_ With the tickle of fingers tipped with long black nails and the swoosh of being picked up with cold and bony hands. The smell of charred flesh and fresh blood, of dust and grave dirt. The sweetness of long dead meat between molars and the soft singing as they were rocked to sleep on a noose.  _

 

It felt like home. 

 

Not the orphanage with its padded beds, washed windows, and minding eyes. With matrons that bandaged cuts and the dark room for children that saved the dead in their drawers. But  _ real  _ home, almost forgotten, the memories blurry. There was no guarantee the acrid burn would lead there, yet they had to try. And when the taste was so potent it raised bile in their throat, when the gaping maw of darkness and vines lay before them…

 

They jumped.


	2. Cimetiére

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple of chapters pre-written just because I find terrible spots to create cliff hangers.
> 
> Also, it's disgustingly short and I'm not evil enough to leave it at that.

The fall is a gloriously violent mess. The wind whips the air from their lungs, stinging their eyes and welting their exposed skin. They slide through the burning magic with a soundless scream of agony, for going where none should and going  _ through.  _ Their mouth fills with copper and they twist, not wanting to see the end, red coated teeth bared and eyes wild.

 

They hit the ground wetly, an explosion of sound and mess. Their insides glisten in the dull light, scattered so beautifully across the flowerbed. A chunk slips from a petal, leaving smears of dark red and the plip plop of liquid is loud in the aftermath. The hole is small and faded this far down, and they let out a burbling laugh, relishing the partial inflation of their remaining lung.

 

It takes time and effort but, eventually, they get up.

 

The air is stale and cloying so deep below. Somehow, even so buried, flowers glint in the shadowy sunlight. A few have curled and blackened from their insides, their blood, and they crush the rest beneath their scuffed sneakers. Below the green and yellow is the smell of rot and compost and they take a handful, stuffing it in their pockets for later. The farther they walk the deeper the darkness grows, swallowing everything until there is only the black… and a small dot of light further ahead. A patch of green in the dark. Life where no life should grow. They are smiling as they dig, fingernails peeling and tearing, smearing dirt and blood across handfuls of grass. 

 

When they are done there is only black.

 

They smile.

 

No one watches them walk away, shedding dirt and blood like bread crumbs. No one feels a shiver go up their stem. No one sinks back into the freshly turned dirt.

 

They walk into light and red, red, red. The leaves are so soft and so bright, spilling across the stairs like their very own path. Their shoelaces click click against the stone and they hope to fall and feel each and every uneven edge dig into their flesh.

 

Unfortunately, they are steady. 

 

Ahead is water, rushing cold streams that plunge from evenly cut holes in the wall. They grip the edge of the rock, teetering over the icy needle spray. İt looks unnatural, like a giant square was cut from the side. İt’s their first sign that something else lives here. İt’s not just the dark and them. They wonder if the water leads somewhere. İf they let go will they drown before it surfaces? The other equally square hole on the other side is too dark to see-

 

“My child, be careful!”

  
They slip, catching a glimpse of white and purple before the water swallows them whole.


	3. Gelure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans finds a dead body.
> 
> Pokes it with a stick.

Sans sits at his station, blowing the fog that gathered in whirls and loops. He would be napping instead of staring at the never-ending white expanse except Papyrus had told him Undyne was patrolling into Snowdin today. She didn't go often, her body not particularly built for the cold… or the heat. If it had been anyone else Sans would have ignored the warning completely (dogs have a terrible sense of time) but this was Papyrus. Always dependable Papyrus. Not a bad bone in him Papyrus. So he sat, blowing air through his eye sockets and watching the fog swirl. Bored out of his skull and eyeing the pathway to Waterfall in the hopes Undyne would tromp by so he could take a nap. 

 

Riveting. 

 

He took another unnecessary inhale through his teeth and blew the air out his left socket. 

 

Absolutely riveting. 

 

The sound of wheels over rock and splashing through water had him turn his head. From Waterfall came the Nice-Cream Bunny and his cart, always smiling like a two bit skeleton. 

 

“'sup.”

 

The bunny stopped at Sans’ station and gave a wave.

 

“Oh, Sans, I’m surprised to see you awake! Usually you're sleeping by the time I head back.”

 

“yeah well, undyne was 'sposed to come by fer an inspection today.”

 

“But Undyne is busy with the King today, why would she do an inspection when she had to meet with the King?”

 

Sans’ eye socket twitched.

 

“what.”

 

“I heard some of the Hotland Guards talking about it. An emergency meeting or an emergency somewhere. Something like that.”

 

“.......what.”

 

The bunny stared at the skeleton. “Uh… did you want a Nice-Cream?”

 

Sans fished out some coins and a hot cat. The bunny pulled out a clumsily wrapped stick and smiled nervously, handing it over for the faintly meowing meat product. 

 

“Well, um, I’ll get going now. See you tomorrow?”

 

The wrapper crinkled as oozing Nice-Cream seeped between Sans phalanges and metacarpals.

 

“Uh… enjoy!” The bunny quickly pushed his cart through the fog, casting glances behind him until the white swallowed him up.

 

Sans peeled the wrapper out of his joints. From under the smeared treat there were the words  _ you’re the best! _ scrawled messily. He dropped the wrapper on the floor of his station and licked the smooshed frozen cream off his hand.

 

Hm.

 

It may have been a bad idea to hold it so tight.

 

He cracked his jaw and used a fang to dig cream from between his joints.

 

Ugh, he needed to wash it. Stupid not having body heat. He stood, kicking over his stool because he was pissed and stomped out into the snow. He’d barely have  _ two hours _ for napping until his shift was over. İt was a travesty! Muttering curses, the skeleton walked into the fog, scowling as the icy air prickled the inside of his cranium. He veered off the main path and into the trees. Here, the high cliffs dropped down to icy beaches, the sand gummed up into mud from the snow. İf the fog wasn't too bad you could see all the way to Waterfall’s bridges.

 

Sans picked his way down to the water, listening for the crack of thin ice. A few straggling trees dipped out into the spray, branches encased from the cold. A big one had exploded and fallen into the river, probably from last week’s ice storm. The thick branches were preventing chunks of snowy ice from sweeping down the river and the entire front of the fallen tree was a broken jam of ice and snow. I was also the safest way to reach the river. Sans carefully walked around the heaves, stepping over dead, waterlogged branches and debris. He leaned over a thick branch, the bark coated with a thin sheen of ice.

 

Eh, nope. He was too short.

 

He heaved himself onto the branch, freezing when something gave an ominous groan. No more pained sounds forthcoming, he hopped down and onto the chunk of ice stuck against the trunk. It had frozen there, the sleet sticking it to everything until it couldn't even rock in the river current. 

 

Perfect.

 

Leaning down, Sans scrubbed his hand through the water, picking out bits of cream with his other distal phalanges. The river froze the cream even more making it come off in chunks instead of smearing everywhere. He stood, shaking out the bits of water clinging to his bones. İf he stayed here any longer he’d get his jacket stuck to the branch behind him… from experience. He turned to leave and stopped.

 

There was something in the river. 

 

Caught in the thick needled branches further along the fallen tree, buffeted by the current. It was dusted with snow… and too solid to be just clothing. He climbed onto the branch and scooted further up the trunk. The tree groaned at a particularly heavy wave and Sans saw a flash of two limbs before the water settled. The water monsters never came up this far unless they were trying to get dusted and the only thing that didn’t turn to dust after death was a human. Maybe a water monster just… fell down? Sans’ morals (and Papyrus’ disappointed face) meant he had to help it. Trying gravity magic on it was a bad idea for a delicate Soul… he had to do it manually. He sighed heavily.

 

_ Work. _

 

He checked along the trunk. Nearer to the body the branches thinned and he wasn’t positive he could safely grab them without snapping them right off. Plus, the tree  _ moved _ further out and the rocking motion would definitely unseat him. He had absolutely no desire to go walking all the way back to Snowdin soaking wet. Maybe he could drag the body further in? It wasn’t too far out and the branches were probably thick enough to stop it getting caught in the river and floating away. Sans’ summoned a femur and sawed at a nearby limb. It basically snapped off once he got halfway, crystallized sap flying everywhere. He stood, wrapping his phalanges around a prickly limb, and slid as far as he could down the trunk. Another wave and the trunk rocked. Sans reached out with his branch and poked along the body, finally catching on something. He awkwardly dragged it back, the clothing stretching a tad before rolling the body it was attached to. 

 

Not enough. Still stuck.

 

Again, he prodded it until it caught on something. Another pull. The body rolled off a branch which promptly flung up in a spray of icy water. The current was pushing the body more, rolling it side to side. Maybe another pull would do it. This time the branch didn’t catch on anything, the side he had been pulling immersed in water. Sans grumbled, stretching  as far as possible and only holding onto his safety branch by the ends of pine needles. He managed to slide the curved end over the body and sort of, scoop it away. It was frustrating and almost completely useless except for being able to rock the thing. Fortunately, this meant that  _ eventually  _ he rocked it completely over and it-

 

Fell off the branch into the water.

 

_ Shit!  _

 

Had he just sent the fallen monster downstream to Waterfall?

 

He frantically scanned the trunk for a hint of clothing or limbs or something. 

 

There. A wrinkled, partially frozen shirt floating under a nearby branch. Nice and close. He reached out to grab and-

 

He was too short to nab it. 

 

It was… probably safe enough to let go of his safe branch. He was barely hanging on as it was… plus Papyrus’ disappointed faces were the  _ worst.  _ Sans let the needles slip through his phalanges and cringed as one got caught in a carpal. If he leaned just a little bit more…

 

_ Aha! _

 

He grabbed the (was that stripes?!) shirt and pulled, tarsals slipping all over the iced bark. His other hand fumbled for another safety branch and he wrapped his phalanges around one with a relieved sigh. The monster was awfully heavy and it took him a few pulls to get it situated even partially up the tree. The shoes were still in the water and every wave made the ends of their pants dip into the river but it was good enough. He rolled it over and-

 

Uh…

 

That wasn’t a monster.

 

Most of the face was a strange wrinkled black, the rest an almost snow white, hair frozen to it and obscuring a few parts. And yet Sans had read enough books from The Dump to know this was a human. A fallen human.

 

Ew.

 

He pulled off a small stick and poked it. A piece of black wrinkly stuff stuck to his stick and peeled off. Underneath was white stuff (didn’t humans have skeletons inside?) and some odd looking green. He frowned at the stick and tossed it into the river. He couldn’t see a soul anywhere which was strange. Or maybe the human had fallen further up the river? Did human Souls follow their bodies? Well… he couldn’t leave it in the river, especially since they didn’t turn into dust. He should probably let Undyne know there might be a Soul somewhere. Or… if he kicked it off the tree it would float all the way to Waterfall where it wouldn’t be his responsibility. 

 

No, no, Inner Papyrus was frowning at him. Alright, he had to move it. Ugh, he didn’t want to touch it at all. What kind of thing just… stuck around after falling down. He might be able to drag it by it’s shirt?

 

Sans reached forward and grabbed some of the soaking fabric, wrapping it as best he could around his phalanges and metacarpals. A secondary grip on a branch meant he had some leverage to pull and-

 

Something grabbed his radius.

  
He freaked.


	4. Mort Vivant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have a general word count for each chapter. But I do post small ones more frequently and I'll never leave people with something pathetic :)

Sans flung his arm out, shaking it violently as he scrambled backwards. The  _ thing  _ wrapped around his radius slipped and fell to the trunk with a wet, squishy sound. It was… it was the arm or hand or something of the human. Pale white, distal phalanges (and some middle) were wrinkly black with spots across where the ulna and radius would be on a skeleton. The rest of the limb was covered in sopping, icing over fabric. The limb twitched and  _ the distals fell off. _ Sans watched the tips roll off the trunk and splish into the water. He didn’t know much about humans, really, but he was pretty sure bits of them didn’t just… fall off willy nilly. Even skeletons had to actively pull themselves apart. The middle phalanges dug into the bark and the body pulled itself forward. 

 

He stepped closer to the branch he was gripping. 

 

From between the frozen hair a pale, milky eye focused on him, rolling around in the socket. The face smiled, black bits peeling off. He saw the other limb spasm a bit, the working one dragging the body further towards Sans. The mouth opened and spewed chunky, pink water everywhere. Odd green bits stuck to the rough bark while the liquid streamed over the side. The head fell, smacking into the trunk, middle phalanges relaxing, the arm flopping sideways.

 

Sans broke off another branch and poked its frontal bone. 

 

The human started giggling wetly, spitting pinkish water through its teeth.

 

…… Well, he couldn’t just  _ leave it _ . 

 

He also didn’t really want to touch it.

 

Sans dug through space and time and pulled out the cellphone. He still wasn’t sure when he had acquired it, being able to move things through time and space messed with that kind of stuff, but at some point he had gotten a cellphone. This one had two numbers on it and he pressed “BoneBro.” 

 

“Uh, hey, pap. i found… someone in the river and i can’t carry ‘em so-”

 

“PAPYRUS IS ON THE CASE!” His brother hung up without saying goodbye and Sans clicked the phone closed. He stared at the still giggling human. It was flopping its blackened arm around, dragging the ends of its middle phalanges along the bark with a weird scraping sound. He should really drag it to the shore at least… so Papyrus didn’t have to come all the way out on the fallen tree to pick it up.

 

The human coughed up something thick and black. A middle phalanx came off.

 

Nope.

 

He backed up the tree and stepped over branches until he hit the ice jam and sat on the snowy ice. If it fell in it could take care of itself.

 

Now he waited.


	5. Se Noyer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "eye see what you did there and iris you didn't."
> 
> "Euuuuhhh?"

Papyrus didn’t take long to show up, thankfully. İt still meant Sans had to watch the human tear it's own flesh off and he really,  _ really _ wished he’d left it in the river. Some of the skin had grown back on its face which was… weird and no book Sans had read mentioned that particular ability. Failed attempts at ripping its own phalanges off meant when Papyrus showed up the human had been gnawing on its digits with gross slurping, squishy noises. 

 

“BROTHER, WHERE İS THİS CİTİZEN İN DİSTRESS? YOU AREN'T PRANKING ME ARE YOU? WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT USING THE MISERY OF OTHERS TO-”

 

Sans pointed at the human laying on the tree, sockets dark. Papyrus’ rant halted mid stride and he gasped, hands flying to his head.

 

“THEY’RE STILL ON THAT RICKETY, UNSTABLE TREE?! AND THEY’RE ALL WET OH GOODNESS DON’T WORRY LITTLE MONSTER FRIEND, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL SAVE YOU!”

 

The human gurked as bony hands grabbed their abdomen and heaved them off the tree in a dizzying hurry. They were carelessly flopped onto an extremely hard shoulder, blowing all the breath from their lungs. If they had anything left in their stomach they probably would have spewed it all down the skeleton’s back. Papyrus took off at a good clip, jolting the body on his shoulder with every bouncing step.

 

“DO NOT WORRY, FRIEND! UNDYNE CAN’T STAND THE COLD EITHER SO I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO DO FOR POOR MONSTERS WHO DON’T HAVE THE CONSTITUTION OF A SKELETON! ARE YOU COMING, SANS? I  _ WILL _ PICK YOU UP IF- OH… THAT-THAT’S MY BROTHER FOR YOU. A-ALWAYS MESSING WITH TIME AND SPACE BUT, UH, USUALLY IT’S NOT QUITE SO ABRUPT.”

 

The human’s eyes were still dead, the stupid things needed to be removed before they could regrow new ones, but whatever was going on it was highly enjoyable. A very uncomfortable ride, all jostling and bouncing around with sharp bits poking them in the gut along with a grating, nasally, very loud voice that didn't shut up. They let themselves flop even harder on a dip and snickered as something dug into their side hard enough to bruise. 

 

“AH, HERE WE ARE! WELCOME TO MY HOUSE, FRIEND! I’LL JUST PUT YOU ON THE COUCH AND GRAB YOU SOME BLANKETS AND MAKE HOT COCOA!”

 

The skeleton dropped them, literally. They cracked their head on the back of the couch, legs smacking into the arm rest before flopping onto the cushions. One arm was twisted behind their back, the other dangling off the couch. They reached over and grasped their forearm, wrenching it out with a crack. Some of their fingers had grown back at least, and they used them to feel out where they were. It was couch shaped, the fabric greasy and uneasily textured. Their fingers passed over sharp bits barely encased by the fabric, something hard that clicked when they pressed on it, and a whole army of crumbs. 

 

“HERE YOU ARE, FRIEND! I MADE IT HOW I SEE UNDYNE DO IT, I THINK!”

 

The skeleton thrust a still boiling cup of hot chocolate at the human sprawled on the couch. Some of the drink sloshed over the rim, splattering on their shirt. Papyrus jerked it again, this time managing to hit a curious hand. The human barely managed to grab it before Papyrus let go, sending more clumpy powder everywhere. The drink burned fiercely, taking the edges of their lips and tip of their tongue right off when they sipped. Papyrus hadn't stirred it at all so most of the powder sat on top of the watery drink, chalky bubbles clinging to the sides.

 

“AND NOW FOR THE BLANKET! UM, WE ONLY HAVE ONE BECAUSE UNDYNE USES IT WHENEVER SHE’S OVER! SOMETHING ABOUT THE HOUSE BEING COLDER THAN… UH, SOMETHING I SHALL NOT REPEAT. BUT BLANKET! VERY IMPORTANT!”

 

Papyrus vaults to the stairs, crashing into the railing and snapping one of the supports before hurtling himself to the second floor. The human lays on the couch, the mug resting on their bruised stomach. They wiggle their good arm and grin. The other twitches a bit. They groan. With tensed digits, they bring their hand to their face and  _ dig.  _

 

_ Pop. _

 

The eye dribbles slime down their face. They absently lick their lips as they  _ pull _ and the eyes catches and they  _ twist  _ and they _ dig in their nails. _ The ruined muscle flops wetly from their empty socket and they are left with the partially pulped remains of their eye. They realize they’ve sat up and the drink is spreading boiling water all over their stomach and legs. Good. They slide their arm around until they hit the tipped cup and manage to wrangle it upright. They stuff their eye inside, listening to the gloop as it falls into the paltry remains of the the hot chocolate.

 

_ “Leaving body parts about is no way to be a guest, Mon Renoncule.” Dry lips pressing against their forehead, the stroke of cold fingers down their cheek.  _

 

They pause for too long and Papyrus launches himself from the balcony, trailing a giant knitted blanket like a sail. İt doesn't prevent gravity and he lands with a crack of floorboards and probably some tarsals. 

 

“NEW FRİEND! THE BLANKET I PROMISED HAS ARRIVED!”

 

He tosses it at them and all they see is a vague blur before it flops over the couch and covers their entire body. It’s absolutely massive, one end falling in folds to the floor over the back of the couch while also covering the entire couch plus one. 

 

“PLEASE MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME WHILE I PREPARE THE SPAGHETTI!”

 

Papyrus leaps through the kitchen door without looking and crashes into Sans. They go down in a heap of noise and bone, chisps flying everywhere from the open bag in Sans phalanges. 

 

“SANS! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT EAVESDROPPING! IF YOU WANT TO KNOW SOMETHING JUST  _ ASK!”  _ Papyrus pulls his arm from between Sans’ ribs.

 

“uh, i was getting a snack?” The smaller skeleton lifts the crumpled bag, both wincing as he smacks into Papyrus’ sternum. “uh, whoops… uh lemme just-”

 

“NO, YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET YOUR ELBOW IN THERE!? SANS  _ OW  _ STOP PULLING!”

 

“it’s almost out just gimme a-”

 

“SANS YOU’RE GETTING GREASE ON MY RIBS!!!! MY BEAUTIFUL INSIDES WILL NEED A GOOD BLEACHING!!!”

 

“sorry, bro. ah, there we are. ow, i think I dislocated a finger doin’ that.”

 

Papyrus checked over his battle body to ensure Sans hadn't marred it with his, ugh,  _ grease _ . His ribs still felt unbearably dirty but he had a guest to feed! He left his brother to fiddle with his distal and quickly donned the Apron of Cooking. 

 

“YOU SHOULD BE A GOOD HOST AND ENTERTAIN OUR GUEST, SANS! NONE OF THIS LURKING ABOUT YOU ALWAYS DO!”

 

Squishy noises were coming from the living room and Sans shuddered, recalling moments previous when he heard those same sounds… without a blanket in the way.

 

“uh, no… i think i’m good, paps.”

 

“NONSENSE, YOU NEED TO GET OUT MORE AND SOCIALIZING WITH A GUEST YOU RUDELY LEFT ON A DANGEROUS TREE IN THE RIVER WOULD DO YOU GOOD.” He pulled the bleach from the cupboard and poured just enough to give his sauce the right kick. “BESIDES, YOU ALWAYS DO BACKGROUND CHECKS ON EVERYONE ANYWAYS, YOU MIGHT AS WELL DO IT IN PERSON!”

 

“that’s not how those, uh, work.”

 

Papyrus stared at the spice cupboard, sauce splattered gloves rubbing his chin. “IT’S HOW THEY SHOULD WORK! WHY BOTHER GETTING TO KNOW PEOPLE FROM AFAR WHEN YOU CAN JUST ASK?” He’d make extra crunchy spaghetti tonight! Excellent choice! He pulled the bowl of freshly crushed rocks out… and some glitter! Can’t forget the glitter! He turned around, spices in hand.

 

“SANS!!!!”

 

His lazy brother looked up at him, hand shoved deep into the chisp bag, peering around the doorway at the couch.

 

“what?”

 

“GO OUT THERE AND ENTERTAIN!” Oh no, he was getting  _ that  _ look. “NO PUNS! THAT IS NOT ENTERTAINMENT! THAT IS TERRIBLE TORTURE!”

 

Sans opened his mouth to say something else, most likely a dreaded pun, but Papyrus shoved him through the doorway and put up a fence of glowing white femurs. 

 

“AND STAY OUT!”

 

Sans snorted, shoving another chisp in his mouth.

_ It was staring at him. _

 

He froze.

 

Two blank, sleepy eyes, cheeks streaked with viscous liquid beneath tangled brown hair.

 

He sidled to the side.

 

The eyes followed.

 

Now, did he risk Papyrus’ wrath and stick around or did he attempt polite discourse?

 

Sans shoved another chisp between his teeth.

 

The face expressed… something. The hands (haaaaaa, the fingers grew back, how  _ nice _ ) grasping the mug in their lap tightened. They glanced down, the blanket draped on their head shifting and falling to the floor. 

 

“uh... so hi?”

 

It jerked upright violently, swinging its legs around and standing. It wobbled a bit then thrust the mug into his face. Sans stared at the human. It stared back. He shifted the chisp bag and reached for the mug, glancing inside.

 

Two mushy, clouded eyeballs sunk into clumpy cocoa sludge stared back.

 

“nope.” He didn’t get enough brotherly love for this.

 

The human blinked when he vanished and they scrambled to nab the mug before it fell onto the rug. 

 

“Euhhhhh?”


	6. Pierre Tombale

The human was a little perturbed. They had two eyeballs they needed to dispose of and the weird almost-skeleton had simply vanished when they tried to give them for proper body part disposal. They frowned, looking around in faint hope there was a shoot labelled “prise en charge des cadavres.” They found a rather beat up television, a sock with a bunch of sticky notes and weird chicken scratch writing, and a pile of overly complicated  _ english _ books on the end table. There was obviously someone in the kitchen and, now that they thought about it, a kitchen was the perfect place to dispose of bodies. The human walked to the open archway.

 

It was covered in bones.

 

Nice.

 

They knocked on the bones and winced. Ow, that stung. 

 

“SANS I TOLD YOU TO- EH? OH, FRIEND! YOU’RE AWAKE!” The other almost-skeleton glanced around the room. “UGH, AND SANS IS GONE. SHIRKING HIS DUTIES AS A HOST AGAIN!”

 

They held out the mug.

 

“AH, DID YOU ENJOY THE HOT CHOCOLATE?! DO YOU WANT MORE?!” The eye sockets were sparkling.

 

They shook their head.

 

For a few brief seconds they felt a stab of guilt as the almost-skeletons features fell. “PROBABLY A GOOD IDEA BECAUSE THE GREATEST CULINARY GENIUS, PAPYRUS, THAT’S ME, IS ALMOST DONE THE SPAGHETTI! HERE, FRIEND, I’LL TAKE THE DISHES!” He snatched the mug and walked to the sink where he had to toss it in. There was a clatter, then a smash. “AND YOU CAN REST UP ON THE COUCH UNTIL IT’S DONE!”

 

That sounded boring. They shook their head and pointed at themselves then at the almost-skeleton.

 

“YOU… YOU WANT TO STAY IN THE KITCHEN?”

 

They nodded.

 

“WOWIE! YOU ARE ALREADY CHARMED BY MY CULINARY SPECIALTIES AND YOU HAVEN’T EVEN EATEN MY SPAGHETTI YET!” He glanced around then dumped the garbage bin over. “THERE YOU ARE, A FINE SEAT FOR MY NEW FRIEND!”

 

They sat on the bin and gave the… Papyrus two thumbs up. 

 

“ALL THAT’S LEFT IS TO HEAT EVERYTHING UP! OH, WE NEVER GOT YOUR NAME, FRIEND!”

 

They paused. They could give their full name and then when they left this magical place they would be given back to the horrid orphanage. Or…

 

“Euh… Renoncule…. Renoncule Rampante.”

 

“UM… THAT’S AN INTERESTING NAME? I DON’T THINK I’VE HEARD OF IT EITHER.”

 

“Hhrrr, means Buttercup… euh, Creeping Buttercup. Maman… euh, surnom?”

 

“MAMAN?”

 

They winced at his pronunciation. “Mama. Euh, parent?”

 

“OH! IT’S A NICKNAME!”

 

“Oui! Nickname!”

 

“ALRIGHT, I’LL JUST CALL YOU BUTTER!”

 

_ Bah, Beurre?  _ Then they remembered his earlier mangling of a simple maman and winced. That might actually be preferable no matter how ridiculous.

 

It was about that time Papyrus turned on the stove and set the pasta on fire. “OKAY! SPAGHETTI IS DONE!” He picked up the still flaming pot and placed it on the counter. Reaching above the flames he picked out three bowls and handed one to Buttercup. “DIG IN, FRIEND BUTTER! SAAAAAANSSSS! SPAGHETTI!!!!”

 

“no need to shout, bro, ‘m right here.”

 

Buttercup jumped, burning spaghetti almost dropping to the floor. Sans lifted up his shirt and pulled out a bowl of water. 

 

And dumped it on the firey concoction.

 

He tossed the bowl without looking and it somehow landed perfectly into the ridiculously tall sink. He accepted the bowl from Papyrus and filled it with burned noodles and sauce. He eyed Buttercup’s still burning bowl and they clutched it suspiciously. 

 

“WE USUALLY EAT ON THE COUCH, FRIEND BUTTER!”

 

They nodded. Somehow, Sans was already there, remote in hand. Papyrus sat enthusiastically, nearly sending Sans flying off. Buttercup plopped down because it was an uncomfortable couch and they were going to  _ enjoy it. _

 

Papyrus began shovelling spaghetti into his maw as Sans switched to an odd, but rather violent program starring some sort of automaton. 

 

“So… Butter?”

Buttercup turned to him, black spaghetti sticking out of their mouth, face splattered with sauce that burned faintly.

 

“OH! SANS, OUR FRIEND TOLD ME THEIR NAME! IT’S… UM, TOO COMPLICATED FOR ME BUT IT MEANS CREEPING BUTTERCUP SO I’M CALLING THEM BUTTER BECAUSE FRIENDS HAVE NICKNAMES!”

 

Buttercup chewed, cracking teeth on the grit, and swallowed. “Renoncule Rampante.”

 

“YEAH, THAT!”

 

Sans was staring at them as they ate. “huh. i think kid’s easier.”

 

Buttercup took another mouthful of burning spaghetti. They could taste blood from the heat and whatever glorious acid the almost-skeleton had added.  _ Quel salaud. _

 

“SANS! DISREGARDING SOMEONE’S CHOSEN NAME IS RUDE!”

 

“ok.”

 

“IF A MONSTER DECIDES TO HAVE A NICKNAME, EVEN IF IT’S UNPRONOUNCEABLE, YOU SHOULD TRY YOUR BEST TO USE IT!”

 

“ok.”

 

“IT’S PART OF BEING A GOOD FRIEND PLUS A GOOD MONSTER! I KNOW YOU’RE LAZY BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN BE RUDE!”

 

“ok.”

 

Buttercup finished their bowl and got up for seconds. For some reason, the fat skeleton looked disappointed.

 

_ Pfff, Branleur. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Little Frisk has quite the potty mouth... in private.
> 
> Doesn't help Sans first impression hasn't been a very good one so far.


End file.
